Fox's Glade silvertongue

morning found the redleaf outside of bearclaw's perimeters, her lone figure loping against the brilliant and fresh-fallen snow. she had tracked the intricate and half-faded scent of a doe, but she had no hopes of felling it herself. she hoped she could trace the hind to a herd, and swing back for home and enlist the assistance of a packmate should any of them be available.

fate, it seemed, had other plans -- the snow was deep and in drifts near the brim of the forest, and the scent was lost.

frustrated, indra turned back for home. she was scarcely across the open plains when she spotted the stretching silhouette of a wolf -- though something about its posture seemed distinctly unwolf-like. she thought to take pains to avoid him, but she knew she was plainly visible against the starkness of the pallid snow.

as it was, the path she followed would have taken her past him anyway. unsure but unwilling to seem afraid, indra pressed onwards with her amber gaze holding his figure with scrutiny.